More Than A Black Shadow
by snapemartyr
Summary: Severus Snape creates a potion for Lord Voldemort, a circumstance which creates an unintended consequence. Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood happen across him during an undefined moment, and must then make a willful decision. Abilities are tested in unique and unseen manners. No slash.


_**A/N:**_

**This is another story that caught my brain, hung onto it with a grip like pincers, refused to leave it. I don't know what I am going to do with my brain, she doesn't ever seem to want to leave me alone aye me, especially at night! This story takes form in the middle of Harry's sixth year, and it is not completely canon in plot, although it is primarily canon in the nature of the characters portrayed. There is a large focus on the Severus Snape persona in this piece, and his relationship with both Harry and Luna Lovegood, who I tentatively plan to put into pairing. The plot focuses on Snape's work as a spy for the Order, and its unseen consequences. He is working for Lord Voldemort in order to create a potion which generates indescribable difficulties, many of which affect his health and emotional capacities. Harry and Luna happen to stumble upon him during an undefined moment, and must make a decision that proves to be uncomfortably revealing. They will need to make decisions of a much heavier nature in the near future after this discovery.**

**{Disclaimer: None of the original work belongs to me. It all belongs to JKR}**

_**Notes:**_

_There will be no slash in this story_

_Not everything contained in the plot will follow the original books _

_Story uses a variety of character viewpoints_

* * *

**Chapter 1-**

_**Discovery of a Potions Master ~**_

The figure swathed in black glided throughout the cold, dark night, snow-encrusted to the tips of his fingers, and unable to switch towards the other side of the snow caressed mounds in order to gain warmth. There was no light that sifted through the trees above him, and the majority of his vision was restricted merely to the wide tunneling scope that was before him, which seemed to have been cut from an eyeglass, or a spectacle of the old- however, he could do nothing save to keep walking. The trees seemed to be whispering as he walked, stagnant and cold, billowing over him in such a way as he could not fathom, which was completely incomprehensible. He felt an involuntary shudder run up his spine. There was something eerily discreet about the way the trees blew, as though they were calling to him in some odd fashion, asserting their power over him in an obscure manner that he really did not like. They were communicating even though they were not supposed to communicate, pausing and then moving again through the wafting breeze, which was casting on him a coarse chill. He shivered through his robes, and drew them tighter about himself.

Severus Snape moved slowly and silently through the forthcoming speckled flecks of things that were supposedly called trees, and attempted to find a path that cut directly towards his destination. He had not visited this area since the Potter's death, and he had apparently forgotten the actual path that had led smoothly into the old dwelling in Godric's Hallow. However, he knew the scant pathway, even if it was really scratchy, and he did not completely understand how to maintain the thready map in his head without losing some of the main pieces. He could do nothing except to follow his instincts through the dark night, and, as he chased them around . . . they began to fall away from him, finally- until at last- he could do nothing except to lean up against a tree.

He swept away a sweaty strand of black hair away from his forehead absently. His eyes darted back and forth through the gloom, not knowing whether or not he could trust his surroundings. He almost wished forlornly for a moment- oddly enough, that- he was back in his classroom teaching various potions to dunderheaded teenagers, but then, of course, such thoughts were a bane, were completely null and void in this situation. He almost wished, as well, that there was some type of avenue for which he could escape this awful predicament, which was somehow more terrible than he could have imagined, once they had finally come to fruition. He felt unexpectedly lonely of a sudden, even though he could not imagine the premise for this absolutely absurd thought, and he quickly pushed it from his mind. He felt a bit disgusted with himself.

There were shadows playing across the sliver of abhorrent land in front of him, a small slice in the berth of a huge bleak expanse, one that he didn't wish to enter. He swallowed down a bit of bile that rose into his throat and forced himself to press onward. He prepared himself to completely close down his thoughts and emotions. Something that was untamed swept down into his inner conscious, but he pushed it back into the swallows of his head. He felt pain push up against the soles of his feet that was not physical, but he could not allow himself to mark the traces that flitted back and forth across his brain, caressing it like small black ravens splitting back and forth. He shook his head to himself, slowly. He knew that what had to happen would not, in any case, wait- and he would not allow himself to think along those lines.

As he took a few more paces, he stumbled- and then looked around himself, the smooth black smudges of dank cold smothering his eyelids, making him wonder at the way the gloom cast its shadows upon his own physical person, when it obviously thought of something there was nothing that he could say which would suffice in this circumstance, even though there were obvious needs that surged like a torrid, black whirlwind throughout his system, which he could not ignore. He found that the new potion that the Dark Lord had asked for recently was difficult to think of. There was snow upon the ground now, however. It was cold and desolate where he was, and he could not allow himself to think of the light flurries of sheer light that passed through his vision, to think of the sunny floats of snow flurries that were cloaked in an array of natural beauty. Snape never actually saw beauty.

He approached the lair where the Dark Lord currently resided, a bent cave that looked a bit shifty due to the encroaching snow overhang, one that made Severus stop, momentarily. He apprehensively examined the new object in the place that held, just above the lump which he knew was Voldemort's resting place- a splendiferous glow directly above the short, yet sturdy cavern. He swiftly moved towards the dank hole which barely peeked out from beneath the spirals of snow combing along the sides of the structure. He pressed his long, spur-stubbed boot into the plateau in front of him, and entered the fold.

Arching along all sides of the enclosure was the deep, elongated black shadow that crafted the dark ranks. Lord Voldemort stood upon a raised dais that formed the triangular tip that marked the end of the furrows. From his sides, the shadow moved so that the inmates heralded their presence, barely demonstrating the fact that their existence; they were almost completely swathed in the cave. Snape looked to his right, and his left- it seemed to reach out from them at every possible angle, dipping down into their eyes, their hands and their faces. Black patches . . . everywhere. The Dark Lord extended a hand.

"Ahhh . . . Severus . . . how nice of you to join us," the voice that he had come to know and understand with a touch of familiarity, hissed. Snape stepped up closer to the dais.

"Please come and join us. You may sit here to my right," he hissed, beckoning him over to the space beside him, which, apparently just for him was reserved. A thick black snake coiled around Voldemort's feet in a soft, rhythmical semblance, examining its lordship from this lowered angle. Snape felt a shiver run through him.

"You are most welcome," he said shortly, and through his veil of hair, Snape nodded at him. He did not wish to see what was behind those insidious eyes, to open up a segment into the Dark Lord's brain, but- it seemed, as though no matter was Severus did, there was always some kind of formality to these meetings which made it impossible to become detached. There was a protocol to be followed through innate pressure, becoming a part of all the proceedings with a rich, deep engagement. He needed to become absolutely entwined with the Dark Lord in all his mannerisms and desires indefinitely. To seem as though he were anything otherwise would be a fatality that would no doubt end his rite to live. There was a protocol which always held him back from swift passing, and all of these sensations were multiplied tenfold by the rage and loathing that the Dark Lord held fast.

Snape swept an untidy strand of black hair out of his face, and around his ear it formed a small curlicue- the Dark Lord sneered, and he rapidly looked away from him, back out oat the crowd. It was odd that he was always destined to sit at the Dark Lord's right, almost as though he were his most righteous. The irony of it was not lost on him. Snape sealed his lips, forcing his thoughts to be blank, impenetrable, the smudges beneath his eyes almost appearing delicate, but faint splashes that had been born- only from pain.

"You have the potion, Severus?" The Dark Lord hissed out presently, breaking Snape from his silent, dark reverie. He lifted his cool gaze up to Lord Voldemort fluidly.

"Of course, my lord," he said smoothly. The Dark Lord seemed pleased by this information. A foreboding chill shook Snape's spine that had everything to do with the fact that the Dark Lord was requesting the most illicit and dangerous potion he had in his stores, as he extended one long fingered white hand, and hissed insidiously,

"Yes, this potion will suit our purposes." He held it up into the soft, milky light that was filtering through the cavern in an ethereal, eerie sort of way, and examined it closely. "Yes, this will be perfect. Nagini," the Dark Lord said swiftly, calling the large snake forth to the front of the pedestal on which he was sitting. And then, at the precise moment in which this occurred, a swift flash of red coursed across Snape's vision, and he glanced back at Lord Voldemort. There appeared to be a scraggly crag between his teeth, but he seemed to be purely unaware of it, as it glistened through the cold air. It was a dying glint of gold, he realized. The slip of shredded mineral was tweaking back and forth through the dim light, making it nearly impossible for him to see exactly the origin of the piece. It was a merely a mesmerizing fold that teased and cajoled when the Dark Lord opened his mouth- drawing out, pulling back in, manipulating innocents . . .

"This was very well endowed, Severus. You have used your skills aptly for Lord Voldemort, and I am very pleased." Snape watched him narrowly.

"Yes, My Lord," he answered him in a mechanical tone. The Dark Lord smiled at him through tight, stretched lips that seemed to speak to infinite waves that seeped out from his soul and into the world around him. Purple light stretched around the enclosure in that minute, and he realized that Voldemort had cast a spell to create a light through his odd brand of magic. The glow cast eerie shadows upon the Death Eaters, who kept their gazes trained upon the ground, black and purple mingling like a bad snow. Their faces were lined, and they looked miserable. Snape could not help but to wonder what might contribute to the overall state of influence that he lorded over them, other than for the obvious arrays of strange magic. Curious purple flecks . . . they certainly did not attribute themselves well enough to their looks and features, he thought, as he watched them dance across their hallowed faces. If they were mesmerized by this . . . well . . . it wasn't saying much.

"You will use this potion in accordance with our decision, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed to him softly, although his voice was not shielded by any kind of censure. Everyone heard his words as clearly as if they were a part of the light cloud that he had created. Snape inclined his head towards him slightly.

"Yes, My Lord," he told him, his voice mimicking a silky smooth pastel print.

"Very good," he said softly, watching Snape, a smile of pleasure stretching across his lips. "You have fulfilled your obligation tonight, Severus." Snape inclined his head once again, though it was more a mellow dip than an actual bow. Lord Voldemort seemed satisfied however, and did not say anything else, watching Snape walk away narrowly. He gave a slight, shadowy finger flick to some of the other supporters, which may have been interpreted as either a wave or an inexplicable gesture of some sort . . . and walked out, into the cold.

* * *

"Harry, I don't think that you should place so much emphasis on the potion," Ron admonished him, while Luna Lovegood observed them serenely from the side. "Snape's not even here today, and you know that Firenz doesn't know anything about potions," he said blatantly, pointing his finger over towards where the centaur, with his notoriously famed stoic expression posted across his face regally, "it would be nearly impossible for him to say anything if you did it wrong anyway," he added, and Harry stared back down at his potion, watching it carefully as it bubbled and simmered underneath his nose, almost as though the murky green colors were sighing in some fashion.

"You know, I read something once about Blumbering Humbdingers in Father's magazine," Luna said absently, while Harry and Ron both tried to ignore her. She was stirring her potion with apparent meager interest, as her attention was still focused upon the line of thought Harry hoped she would staunch eventually. He couldn't help notice that she appeared to be stirring it deftly, though. "The article was really most interesting. There were several lines about the companionship that they can offer you, when you recognize their true merits."

"What type of merits?" Harry asked her politely, trying to sound interested, even though he was really wishing that he could shut her out- he didn't want to be rude unnecessarily, though, and, even though it was rather difficult to admit, he rather did rather like Luna. He watched her as she thrummed the forefinger of her right hand merrily against her cauldron, as though completely aware of its efforts as the sticky goo bubbled up insanely against the pewter, trying to gain her attention.

"Well," she said slowly, her voice becoming unaccountably sad for a minute as she mused over her answer, "they don't fare real well if they lose your good favor, or you quite paying attention to them. They don't like to be neglected." Harry watched her quietly for a minute. Something about the way that she made the statement was a bit serene, intermixed with a form of graceful sadness that didn't make any sense.

"Er- have you ever had a bad experience with one of them?" Luna gazed at him mistily.

"Yes, perhaps." Harry had no idea what she meant, but was happy to simply sit where he was as Luna continued to speak on topics that were complete nonsense in his view, unable to say anything that would even remotely lend itself to common sense. Her radish earrings were dangling in his face she was so close, almost as though they meant to tease, and draw him out. There was something that was cadaverous about Luna, something that was completely unfounded, clean, and untrammeled. Sometimes he simply did not know how to respond to what she said, and sometimes he was merely put off by her strange manner. Yet still, there did not seem to be any kind of solace in this mere thought.

"When I was young, my father took the largest pygmy puff that I had and put it in a small box," she said languidly, still staring off in space, her fingers stooped beneath her chin while she gazed. "It was really difficult for me to comfort the creature due to the fact that it was hidden underneath a cloth which my father had imbued in the box," she said stoutly, and Harry shook his head without actually willing something new.

"Pygmy Puffs do have the most interesting coloring," Luna went on, speaking as if she was in a daze, but unable to break from the shell of complete absurdity into which she'd been built, weaving out into the heart of reality somehow, like a train. Harry thought it was completely unstoppable. "I always wanted to find one in its natural environment, you know, because they really do very well in different types of environments. Sometimes environment seems to infringe upon the color. I'm pretty sure that I have heard of white Pygmy Puffs who were completely unable to thrive in modern terrestrial environments. Isn't that funny?"

"Er- " Harry scratched the back of his head, ducking, while he heard Ron chuckle underneath the table. With utmost rapidity, he pulled himself up before she could determine the source of those chuckles. He kicked Ron in the shins, who was, currently, sitting behind him, and this action forced him to expedite and extremely odd twist which really hurt him- thus, he blamed Ron for something that he could not quite manage to put into words. Luna scratched her head, and a small frown creased her temples, between her serene orbs. The pale white of her face seemed to lose some of its already faint, faltering color, that sometimes appeared to whine pitifully for more sunlight.

"Is there anything the matter, Luna?" he asked her. She allowed her hands to fall upon the table before her in a slow, dead movement all of a sudden, and let out a small sigh.

"No, Harry. I was just thinking about the many ways in which some of the students don't really take this topic seriously. Much of what I say seems to just go out of their ears. It doesn't seem as though there is a market for Pygmy Puffs . . . or perhaps there is such a large market that their fate is overlooked quite often . . . I just don't know." Harry cleared his throat.

"Well, I am sure that there is not that much to worry about," he said, trying to sound consoling.

"That isn't really the issue at hand, Harry," she said baldly, as though she found his words rather offensive, but he did not know how to respond, yet again. In result, he inadvertently began stirring his potion more feverishly, trying to ignore Ron's snort from over his left shoulder.

"If you could tell me exactly what the trouble is with this potion, Luna, I would really appreciate it," Hermione stated all of a sudden, and internally Harry thanked her for what seemed to be an absolutely perfect sense of intuition. He snorted quietly to himself, and quickly finished up bottling his potion. Without allowing himself to become sidetracked again, and with a distinct feeling of buoyancy, that result from the possibly that just maybe he had passed, he took it up to Snape's desk for grading. He felt vaguely excited for a change, buoyed by the notion that he'd possibly accomplished the impossible task of making a decent mark. However, he noticed that Snape was looking anywhere but at him when he put the flask upon his desk, almost as though he was pretending to disprove the fact, to his own eyes, that Harry actually existed. He simply shrugged, and went back to sit among friends who did not appear to be interested in anything except their individual talk. By the look that they now shared, he had the distinct feeling that interrupting them would result in something catastrophic.

Luna walked out of the potions classroom looking quite gay and happy to him, and he somehow lost Ron and Hermione as they reached the stairwell. Harry found that he did not mind her company for a change, feeling the difference quite keenly; there was a mellow quality that seeped into the folds of their gentle repartee, and he studied Luna carefully as she spoke in the soft, melodious tongue of hers. He had become accustomed to sitting with Ron and Hermione during almost every part of the day and listening to their oftentimes avid banter, filled with a passion that did not always lend itself to the companionable comfort that one found solace in. While he undeniably loved them both on an unreachable level, they became passionate during moments that he strangely found . . . well, in which he just wanted to enjoy the quiet. With Luna, it seemed, one could just block her out, and then place her back into the inner sphere of engagement that would entertain and regale; for he did find her quite entertaining. He did not realize that he had adorned a look of amusement.

"Harry," Luna was now patting him on the arm softly, bringing him back to the present, and he found himself glancing into her curious face, which held an air of expectancy to it. "What's on your mind? You seem to be a million miles away at the moment," she said candidly, her voice bubbling with a buoyant mirth that seemed a bit unsuited at that instant. He cleared his throat.

"Nothing, Luna. Nothing at all . . . " She smiled at him again. "Oh, that's nice . . . " He had the most unrelenting urge to burst out laughing then, but he somehow fought against it. Then he suddenly thought of something.

"Luna . . . is there any chance that you have the next free hour with me? It's the one after Charms, and the period is my third." She seemed to grow rather excited.

"Oh, yes, Harry," she said, with a flash of dazzlingly bright merit, "I would love to spend my free hour with you! Where shall we meet after I finish with Divination? You know that the aftermath of the class can be quite enticing, with the professor's constant predictions being made at the strangest times, the air of solitude and enigma sometimes interfering with timely order. Would it be alright if I am five minutes late? I will do the best I can to get there on time, though, really . . . "

"Yes, that's fine," Harry put in quickly, in order to stop the flow of her words before it became unmanageable to them both. Again, though, he couldn't retain an internal chuckle. "I can meet you at the front of the Great Hall, if you wish." He was glad that she was so enthusiastic about it, because Ron and Hermione both had class during his free period this year, and it was getting rather hard to do his studies in complete solitude- he missed the benefit of their company . . .

"Okay, then I'll see you after Divination. Have a great class with Professor Sprout, Harry. I'm sure you'll do really well with your project," she said, referring to an immensely difficult Herbology assignment that Harry had been compelled to tell her about. He glanced away from her for a minute, feeling the consideration in the statement, which he felt to be vaguely unwarranted.

"Thank you, Luna," he then said sincerely, looking back into her face. She smiled at him again, and then, giving him a slight wave, began retreating in the direction of the Astronomy Tower, where Divination class was held. He shook his head slightly, placed his hands into his pockets, and then walked towards the Gryffindor Table feeling somewhat askance. Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to notice anything unusual, however, and when he removed his chair in order to sit among them in his usual fashion they smiled at one another contentedly. He was on the verge of rolling his eyes, when Hermione opened her mouth to say something on a topic that Harry was sure was completely detached from the immediate discussion. He cut in rapidly, however, and told her that he needed to go to class. Thus she did not finish her sentence, and he gave her a slightly apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, but I've got class in five minutes," he repeated, his tone bland. Her brows furrowed.

"That's alright, Harry. Will we see you later?"

"Of course," he said, trying to muster up a smile.

* * *

Luna barreled towards him, looking completely catastrophic with her pile of books flying about, her hair flowing around her face in a haphazard manner. There were greens, blues, pinks, and reds that shuddered from beneath her elbows, which he knew was merely a part of her clothing. The freakish red that wept out between her many books was not specifically meant to be used for reading, it did not appear. As Harry glanced at the semblance that was coursing outwards, reaching, almost strenuously, into the room, he realized that it was actually a piece of paper that she had magically formed into a red scroll of parchment. He raised his eyebrows at her rather bemusedly. She did not seemed overtly disturbed by it- in fact, she said,

"Harry, I spelled my parchment so that it would be easier to use." She smiled at him brilliantly, and, though no, Harry did not understand why she had spelled it red, he said nothing. Luna romped up to him gaily, and they made their way towards the grounds. He supposed that some might call Luna Lovegood a variety mixed up with luck and chance in turn. He smiled faintly at her and turned away. She invoked a melee of different attributes, and he could never seem to pick one out from the rest. There was a regaling manner in all of the buoyancy that poured from her at any given moment. Harry rubbed at his forehead absently as he observed her.

"Sudden headache?" Luna asked him, as they walked. He turned to her mumbled, his tone holding a gravelly tinge,

"No, not really- it just aches slightly. I think it's probably just lack of sleep, so don't worry." In truth, Harry's head had been bothering him for the past several hours, but he had refrained from mentioning it to his friends. He had assumed that it would dissipate, eventually- he was wrong however. He suddenly felt, as well, that Luna had gotten much to close to him, but he only cleared his throat slightly, as there was nothing that could stop this from happening. At least, not in his mind. There was a warm, fuzzy feeling tickling his chest, one that he could not truly understand. When her hand fell upon his shoulder, he wanted to extend it into the wider circumference of his life, and he just wished, that for a little while she could . . but then he stopped his thoughts, and bent his head down. This did no stop her from patting him gently, though. He noticed the copy of the Quibbler that was sticking out of her left pocket.

As they walked deeply into the heart of the curving grounds of the castle, he noticed that there was a black sheet of mass moving towards Hogwarts; for a moment, Harry could not discern for a moment what type of darkness it foretold. As it shifted, however, he realized that the soft movement indicated a person who was swathed up to his head in a thick black. A soft brushing of the robes sweeping across the ground revealed more to him, however, and he quickly discovered the identity of the person, and lifted a finger to his cheek. It was an involuntary action, one which did not imply any type of predication of the fact, but he quickly understood, and a finger was raised in a mutual gesture.

Suddenly, Harry paused, and realized that Snape was in pain. There was a fuzziness which clung to his person overshadowing him, making him wonder where the potions master had just come from. He blinked several times, but the haze was not a trick of the light. Therefore, he took a step forward and was forced to pause, when Snape stopped as well. As swiftly as he had been walking did his cold black eyes sweep upward to meet the green ones of Harry; and they mutually seemed to suck in a breath. The air came to a rollicking halt, and suspended itself for just the two of them. Ignoring the fact that Luna was at his side, and had tugged quietly at his arm, he began walking towards the teacher that he so loathed. He thought that he heard a soft breath create a vacuum, but he did not look at her.

The swish of black created a dusky portrayal in the form of tiny snow eddies that flanked his robes. Harry wondered if he was even aware of the presence that he gave, but somehow, he did not think so. There was no real recognition in Snape's eyes when his orbs roved quietly upon the soft shadows that were cresting over his face. He took a step towards him and then suddenly stopped short. Snape's eyes pierced him with a deep movement that reminded him of shaded sun, the rays glimmering along a panel of wood flecked with speckles of light. This immersed him with sudden fear, even though he didn't know where the feeling had come from. The impenetrable orbs were some kind of shiny floor upon which the sun from the sky was reflected through the trees, but the sentiment that he discerned in them was unidentifiable, as smooth as a floor but dark.

"Potter," he hissed out, giving Harry chance to pause. Snape moved towards the left, and this caused Harry to be immediately wary of his intentions. As his hand was in the process of slipping around his wand within his inner pocket, however, the potions master moved to the side and leaned against a wide oak tree. There was a moment of complete and utter quiet, which meandered throughout the air between them as though they were pieces, fragments of the forest that were overlooked by the noisy wind, silent statues.

When Snape did not make any movement save for extend his long, black-robed arms outward, and rest them against the tree before him, Harry's curiosity peaked.

"Professor?" he questioned, staring at Snape's curtain of black hair, not comprehending exactly what he was doing. As he took another step, he thought that he could hear his breathing fluctuate in a harsher inflection than was typical for him. However, he could not be sure of that.

"Professor Snape? Do you er- do you need any assistance, or-well- anything?" However, Snape's breathing was noticeably harsh now, and instead of turning around to face him, he merely snarled,

"Go back to the castle, where you belong, Potter. I fail to see why it is that your egotism follows you wherever you go!" His voice tinged was tinged with ire, and Harry watched as shoulders began to tremble slightly through his robe, biting his lip while he prevaricated. Although the last thing that he wanted to do was to provide Snape his arm to lean upon, a sentiment which was divined not in the least from the notion, that he would be committing suicide by doing so, he stood there. In that moment he had to admit, that he did feel as stupid as Snape had always thought him to be. He heard the draw of a few leaves cascading behind him, and realized that Luna had caught up with him at last. Giving one last uneasy look at Snape's back, he turned around. For some reason the serene appearance of her wide blue orbs, sheltered between the softly flowing, admittedly haphazard hair that surrounded her, calmed him slightly. But he pushed away the feeling quickly.

"It's Snape." He gestured at the back of Snape's form helplessly. "I just came across him, and I think he may need help," he told her. Luna's wide, protuberant eyes sought out Snape's form at this, but he did not say a word, and her eyes did not actually show any measure of surprise. She walked up to him and to Harry's astonishment, she lifted a hand to place it upon his shoulder without a moment's hesitation.

"Professor?" Luna asked him in her typical soft fashion. "I am Luna Lovegood. You probably don't have a very sharp memory for me, because I'm not actually a Slytherin, but I am in your sixth year potions class." Harry stood to the side watching, feeling slightly out of place. When Snape did not answer her, Harry wondered if he was still completely cognizant. "It's alright sir," Luna continued, apparently disregarding his silence, "let's just get you into the castle. If you want us to, Harry and I can help you directly to your quarters." And with that, she closed her hand around his arm, ignoring the flinch that he gave at her touch, and attempted to steer him back from the tree, towards the place where he was standing. He quickly moved out of the way, surprised when Snape actually allowed this, but then he noticed that Snape's eyes were closed. He glanced at Luna quizzically and realized that she had her wand out, and was now waving it over the potions master fluidly. His mouth fell.

"Luna," he said slowly, as she moved her wand to the side and pocketed it, "is that- " She nodded, and smiled at him benignly,

"Just a slight sedative charm," she said, apparently unaffected by her actions, "it's quite gentle really, and it will assist us in this particular case, I think," she stated, giving Snape a somewhat dubious look. "I am not so sure that he would have allowed us to take him to the castle on his own. Come to think of it, it probably _is_ best if we remain cautious. I better disillusion him as well, as it wouldn't do to attract unwanted publicity." Harry had to agree with her on this point. Walking into the Great Hall with Snape in between them, in front of a whole mass of students, probably wouldn't bode well for their reputation.

"Alright," he agreed, as she drew out her wand once more. "But where will we take him?"

"Why, to his personal quarters, of course," Luna said, her lips pursed as she concentrated on the spell she was casting, "there she said," as Snape became nothing more than air and she put her wand away again, "that should do." Harry stepped forward to help her, but not without a sense of unease. He thought of something then.

"How do you know where Snape's personal quarters are?" he asked her, lifting Snape's right arm by the meticulous method of feeling the air for several moments before he grasped it. She smiled at him mysteriously as they started to move forward.

"The Hogwarts potions master is not quite as enigmatic as everyone at Hogwarts understands him to be, by some." Harry did not even bother to ask her what this meant, assuming that the answer she provided would shed just as little light on the matter as her response. They precariously meandered towards the castle, until Harry had a brilliant conjecture, and belatedly decided that it would be more logical to levitate the potions master to his quarters. Pushing all consecutive thoughts aside, he allowed Luna to take him to Professor Snape's personal private quarters, unable to shake the feeling of fear that he had subconsciously been hiding, but which now, burned within the pit of his gut unrepentently.

* * *

**_A/N:_** **Let me know what you think, if you feel that you would like me to continue with this, and your general thoughts :) Cookies for those that make me happy! I am going to finish off my computer lesson now, and am going to be sorely depressed, so I will really need the cheer . . .**


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